


A Series of Questionable Decisions

by Jairissa



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Canonical Animal Death, Gen, Humor, Misses Clause Challenge, Platonic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 03:37:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jairissa/pseuds/Jairissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being the Dragonborn is a prestigious and important destiny. Unfortunately this time around the honor was bestowed on someone with no more common sense than a pile of broken rocks. The life of a housecarl is frought with peril, especially when she is serving the Dovahkiin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bexless](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bexless/gifts).



> Spoilers: few for the base game and none for any of the expansions backs bar the fact that in Hearthfire you can adopt children.
> 
> Those who are concerned with animal death (even canonical and non-graphic) should skip the chapter Buying A Horse. It won't affect the rest of the story, as most of the chapters can stand alone.
> 
> I've taken some liberty with the dialogue, mostly because I was unable to get the right conversation tree on the playthrough I was using for plot purposes.
> 
> Bexless, I hope this Dragonborn is entertaining to you. Somehow whenever I play I end up with a sneak thief who loves her bow and arrow and makes impulsive and often questionable decisions. Almost all of the ones contained in this story have happened in one of my games.

The thought came to Svala slowly, as she decapitated the Draugr Wight, turned and attacked the Overlord. She was out of arrows, had lost her bow somewhere in the passages of Bleak Falls Barrow and was being forced to swing her axe wildly, hoping she hit someone other than herself. Lydia was somewhere behind her, attacking with far more accuracy, until one of Svala's imprecise strikes scraped over her Lydia's arm and she howled in pain.

"Damn Draugr!" Svala yelled instinctively, ducking behind her companion. The cut didn't seem deep. Despite Lydia's complaints there was little blood, so why the protests when she yanked her housecarl to her feet Svala didn't know.

Still, the thought was there, poking her in the head occasionally when she managed to chop an arm off or rasp her axe along the wall with a sharp screech. It was there when Lydia lost her temper at another absolutely accidental scrape of axe on skin and hit her over the head with the butt of the sword Svala had so generously bought her from The Scorched Hammer. 

It clarified when the Overlord let out a loud bellow that was far too close to her own for Svala's comfort, and she roared back _Fus Ro_ , the only part of the shout she'd managed to learn from the Greybeards before she'd gotten distracted by Brynjolf's pretty accent and all the gold he promised her. 

The Overlord didn't quite stagger, but he paused enough that when Svala hacked at him like she was chopping wood he finally dropped to the ground and stopped moving. Svala kicked him to make sure, and he stayed still enough that she felt confident in turning her back on him and surveying her surroundings more carefully.

"Ooh, treasure chest," she said, the warm feeling of incoming riches suffusing her chest.

"Is that truly what you should be worried about?" Lydia asked her, rubbing at her still bleeding arm. Svala rummaged through her inventory, discounting the Draught of Pickpocketing and the Potion of Trueshot to find a Potion of Minor Healing. Lydia gave her the look that told her she was questioning life, the universe and the fate that had brought her to Whiterun, and Svala. Svala jumped straight to the Potion of Vigorous Healing, which earned a slightly less scornful but still rather vicious glare.

"I'm always worried about money," Svala told her sternly, diving for the treasure chest and opening it with joy. 100 gold, an amethyst, a couple of potions she'd fleece in the next city she visited for some quick cash and yet another axe that she'd never use. "Do you want this? It's shiny."

Lydia took it without thank you, turning it over in her hands. When that failed to yield answers Svala's housecarl balanced it on the back of her hand, twisting and turning her wrist until the axe clattered to the ground with a sharp clang. 

"Junk," she declared.

"I'll see if I can make the Pawned Prawn take it," Svala decided, sticking it in her inventory. 

Having said that, when she tried to straighten her back she found herself overloaded, unable to walk or, Talos forbid, run if she needed to. Making a face at the idea of lost revenue, she reluctantly sorted her possessions until she found a couple of random plates and boots that had ended up in there by mistake and tossed them to the ground.

"Being the Dragonborn is excellent fun," Svala said, looking down at the Overlord that had almost killed her, the dungeon that had at no point been on her itinerary, and the exit that would yield yet another civilian that had managed to convince her to solve his battles for her. "But I'm beginning to think I make the occasional bad choice."

"I have no idea what would make you decide that," Lydia sighed, tucking the potion bottle away for reuse, should either of them get distracted or drunk enough to decide that they wanted to test out the alchemy lab that Svala was fairly sure still existed somewhere in the basement of Breezehome. 

"I'm fairly sure most people don't get into this sort of trouble," Svala pointed out. Lydia snorted, but a smile was tugging at the corner of her mouth, and she seemed less inclined to want to stab Svala with something from her own inventory, so that was progress.

"Probably not," Lydia agreed, turning them both towards the tunnel Svala was fairly sure they had entered through. "You do seem to have fun."

This was true. Svala enjoyed most of the things she did. It was the consequences that came afterwards that she sometimes had trouble living with. At times she forgot, as it wasn't hard to do when Svala had a habit of showing up somewhere and becoming Grand High Leader of it, that the world wasn't built to revolve around her. Sometimes stealing that armour meant you'd be beaten by mercenaries a week later, and going into that abandoned cave lost her most of her healing potions. 

"Fun might not be everything," Svala said, the words strangely painful. 

"Perhaps not," Lydia said, patting Svala awkwardly on the back. "What would you choose instead?"

"Civic responsibility?" Svala guessed, searching back to all the lectures her parents had given her before she'd ducked out for a quick drink and ended up being attacked by a dragon in Helgen. "Fighting for the freedom of Skyrim against the evil Empire?"

"I have trouble seeing you as a soldier," Lydia said. Svala followed her thoughtfully, with some inkling of the vague wrongness of that, contemplating the idea of herself in the army.

"I'd look good in a uniform," Svala pointed out, not a little smugly.

"You would have to follow orders," Lydia informed her, and the idea seemed a great degree less interesting. 

"I believe in personal improvement," Svala hedged, running her hands over the walls to see if she missed any treasure on the way in. "I think I might need to work up to it, though, rather than assuming I could do it right straight away."

"Good idea," Lydia said, opening the door to the Barrow. Outside was another group of mercenaries - where did they keep coming from? - holding a note that she knew would have her name on it and looking fierce. Svala had forgotten to find her bow on the way out, the piece of junk it had been, and she was stuck with either the axe she had proven terrible with or an enchanted sword she'd been saving for whichever merchant had the most money. 

Lydia looked at her askance. Svala gave her a sheepish grin. She had no explanation for this one. An explanation would require her to remember which poor sod she'd ripped off in the first place, and there were far too many of them for Svala's limited concentration to recall off the top of her head. 

"Better life choices," Svala said, the best apology she could think of. "How did I get here again?"

"Do you want the long version?" Lydia said, swinging her axe at what appeared to be the mercenary leader. "Or the short one?"

"Damn," Svala said, missing the mercenary entirely and embedding her sword in the Barrow door.

* * *


	2. Helped a Jarl

As little experience as she had with dragons, Svala was fairly confident in saying that dragons in general were a bad thing. They were large, had pointy things that were even more dangerous than the ones Svala played with, and they tended to send large amounts of fire in Svala's specific direction, which was both painful and actually somewhat nice in the chilly Skyrim weather. 

The dragon was following her. Svala wasn't entirely sure why, but the damn thing appeared over her head, yelled in her ear and then started trying to eat her. It had the right to fly wherever it wanted, she couldn't really blame it for that, but the yelling was going a bit far and Svala personally objected to the part where the thing tried to put her head in its mouth.

"That's not nice," she said, pulling out her trusty bow. She'd been practicing, and the applications of it seemed endless. It was especially fun when she ducked down and attempted to sneak up behind someone, shooting them before they realised she was there. Her arrows were beginning to fly true; one or two and she could take down even the fiercest deer, fleecing them off their valuable furs and ensuring she didn't starve for another day.

Dragons didn't fall after one or two shots.

"Would you die now, please?" Svala asked it as nicely as she could. She also shot an arrow through its eye, just in case it said no, and it roared at her. She could almost understand what it was saying, translating the words in her head. 

The dragon landed in front of her, breath sour as it huffed against her face. Svala gripped tighter to her bow, shooting arrow after arrow at it as it waddled slowly towards her, ungainful on land as it was graceful in the sky. The fire burned her face. It was close, too close for arrows, so Svala switched to the mace she had looted from a bear and started flailing her weapon at it until it dropped to the ground.

The dead creature in front of her had all the wonder of a living dragon, with a large helping of allure that Svala didn't quite understand. She walked closer to it, holding her hand outstretched until it stroked the dragon's skin and was filled with inexplicable warmth. She closed her eyes for just a moment and the rush grew, spiralling around her until Svala thought she was on fire, burning with the power of it.

By the time she could see again the fire had burned away the dragon's skin, and its insides, leaving exposed bones and a few stray scales fluttering in the remaining breeze. There were whispers behind her, words she couldn't hear until her ears stopped ringing and everything started to make sense again

"Dragonborn," she repeated, rubbing at her head. "Wait. What are you saying about my mother?"

"You're Dragonborn," Irileth said. Her skin didn't pale, no Dunmer's did, but there was shock and stiffness there, and a wonder that she hadn't directed towards Svala even after she'd picked up the bow and arrow in the cave and discovered the wonder of a weapon that was very hard to stab herself with. 

"What's Dragonborn?" She said, stupidly and not a little off-balance. She knew, somewhat, what Dragonborn meant, most Nords did. It was an ancient legend, one of the oldest Svala could remember, a part of the history that Nords clung to, based their culture around. What Svala couldn't understand is why that was directed at her, and why she felt as though there was something else inside her, something new. Something _more_.

Then there was a thunder, a loud rumbling voice that called out _Dovahkiin_. Svala felt it deep in her bones, summoning her, calling her towards something she didn't comprehend. She wanted to leave, wanted to run until she found it and it could be explained to her in small words she could understand, but the near-horror of her companions stayed her feet.

"The Greybeards," someone told her. Greybeards. She had to find the Greybeards. They were somewhere far away, and they needed her to come to them, to…Svala growled, hitting at her head until the last of the fog cleared away. She didn't like people playing around in her mind, making her think thoughts that weren't her own. 

"Go find the Greybeards," Svala repeated, which seemed to calm Irileth enough that she sent the troops trotting back to Dragonsreach, and followed after them with one last, wary look in Svala's direction. Svala gripped at her bow, considered shooting after the damn Elf, but nice as she was finding the new weapon she wasn't entirely sure of her aim. Her last shot at the dragon was still lodged in a nearby rabbit's eye, which was wonderful for dinner, but not so very good for stealth sniping one of the Jarl's servants. 

To make sure she didn't forget Svala scribbled the reminder in her journal, a present from her Aunt that she had never bothered to use - _Dear Diary: got drunk again, woke up passed out in a patch of leek. Stole some for lunch_ wasn't something she wanted recorded for posterity - in large red letters, scribbled with a stick and the splash of someone's blood on her arm.

Disgusting, but mind-messing needed to be recorded in the strongest letters possible. 

First, however, Svala wanted to have a word with the Jarl. It was one thing to suggest going out to look for the dragon, and rather another to force her to put her life on the line to eradicate an overgrown lizard without pay. Svala was fond of pay. She'd not had a septim of her own before she set off on her adventure, and she meant to rectify that as best she could.

A dragon, she reckoned, as she picked up a couple of its bones and a few scales, should fetch quite a might bounty.

* * *

The bounty wasn't exactly money. It was the opposite of money, in fact, if you factored in that Svala had to undertake another quest to get it, and then pay for it herself with almost the entirety of her coin purse. Still, it was a house: stable, warm and the first thing of her own that Svala had really owned. Plus it came with a free servant, and who could say no to that? Actually, Svala had attempted to say no to that, but she found that if she wanted the house she must have Lydia too. 

"What does a Housecarl do?" Svala asked awkwardly, poking around the corners of her new home. She'd never seen so much food in one place before, nor ale she'd been allowed to drink without a disappointed mother wailing about how they were to bear the cost of replacing it. So many things, and they were all hers. She couldn't grasp it, no matter how many of her new possessions she rubbed her fingers over.

"Whatever my Thane requires of me," Lydia said unenthusiastically. Svala couldn't much blame her for that; if she'd been pressed into service with a complete stranger, she couldn't say that she would be all too happy about it, either. 

"And if I asked you to bring me back a giant's head?" Svala asked randomly, and then remembered the mammoth tusk she had promised to bring Ysolda. "Or a mammoth's tusk?"

"I am not meant to leave Whiterun without my Thane," Lydia said through gritted teeth. "If you were to insist…"

"No," Svala said. She'd been looking forward to hunting down a mammoth herself; she had never tasted mammoth meat before, expensive as it was. The quest she had promised to undertake was the perfect excuse to find one. "I was considering going to find one myself. Would you like to come along with me?"

"As my Thane commands," Lydia replied dully. Svala was beginning to expect that Lydia was not going to be her newest friend. 

"Your Thane commands," Svala ordered, as much to be contrary as to have company with her. Trudging along the countryside hoping to come across a giant's camp was no less dull while being followed by a woman who snapped at wolves and swore whenever she got the smallest cut. Svala was beginning to think that she was a terrible person: more than once she had left a wolf, a bear and, in one spectacular instance, a mud crab, alone with the housecarl just to hear her yell.

Why so many people complained about giants while Svala found one utterly impossible to find, she wasn't quite sure. She was so busy considering that thought that she almost landed on top of one, pacing back and forth with a swinging club, before she was able to grasp the danger she had just put herself it. 

It was Lydia who pulled her back, hid her behind a rock and yelled something about Skyrim belonging to the Nords. It was Svala who then had to chase back after her, barely dodging the giant's fierce blows and wincing when the hard wood glanced off Lydia's head. It sent her sprawling to the floor; she crawled rather than ran away, and Svala pulled her bowstring back, sending another useless arrow into the giant's back.

"Damn you," Lydia spat. 

"I'm trying my best here," Svala yelled back through gritted teeth. "You're the one who…owowowow!"

Giants had wonderful aim, and with her limited melee skills Svala was no match for a very angry one. She gave her best prayer to Talos, backing up swiftly and shooting off arrows as quickly as her now allowed. It was barely effective. She was on her last arrow, and being forced to her knees in pain, when she let loose one last, desperate shot and watched it sail into the top of the giant's arm, quivering wildly. 

The giant gaped, surprise writ large over its face, and collapsed, nearly crushing Svala on its way down. 

"Oh damn," Svala said, gasping for breath. "Oh damn, damn, Talos guide me…"

She remembered Lydia abruptly. Svala's housecarl was still crawling, dragging her legs along the ground. There was blood, far too much of it, and Svala had only one healing potion to give to both of them. She wanted to take it herself, get rid of some of the hurt, but there was Lydia, who she had dragged along for her own amusement, clearly far more hurt. Svala could still walk, which made the choice too simple.

"Drink," Svala said, tilting the potion bottle towards Lydia's mouth. 

"You," Lydia gasped, knowing well what little Svala had brought along with her and still managing to sound ungrateful. "My Thane."

"There's no need to be mean," Svala said primly, waiting until Lydia had finished sucking in a breath and tipping the red liquid into her mouth. Lydia swallowed instinctively, the potion healing her as it went down. She looked better so quickly that Svala would have swatted at her, had moving her arms not ached so much. 

Lydia glared at her then sighed, sliding her arm around Svala's waist. Svala leaned against her instinctively, resting the bulk of her weight against Lydia's side. Lydia buckled. Minor healing potions were not overly strong; Svala should have thought of that before starting this adventure, should have found a way to make more money and buy more supplies, not expected that the few potions lying around her new home would be sufficient. 

"I'll help you home," Lydia said. There was less of the sarcasm in her voice, but the derision was not a large amount better. Svala looked back at the giant with widened eyes, thinking on all the loot she could have gotten from his corpse. Then she looked behind him, at the mammoth that had caught their scent and noticed the sad state of its giant friend.

"I still need that tusk," Svala murmured. The mammoth snorted, bellowed its fury and charged towards them. Svala thought quickly and nodded. "Not that much."

"As my Thane commands," Lydia said. Svala felt a surge of energy; enough to pull out her bow and start to shoot, to allow Lydia to release her tight grip and begin hacking away. 

They got the tusk. Svala decided that crawling back towards Whiterun was a perfectly valid form of transport: less of the speed and more of the pain, with the added benefit of having less distance to fall each time she collapsed. 

With uncharacteristic good grace Svala shared the reward with Lydia and murmured something vague about going to stock up on potions. 

The state of her coin purse prompted her to try stealing them from Belethor's. He didn't see her, and Svala, flush with her success, helped herself to a few more items he had stocked. She was not good at much, but apparently sneaking up behind someone and stealing their possessions was one of the few exceptions. 

Before she left she stopped by Dragonsreach.

"I can't get rid of my housecarl, can I?" She asked in a whisper, envisioning how much trouble she'd get if she hit the Jarl with one of the plates she had liberated from her house. 

"Lydia has always been a most loyal servant," Proventus Avenicci murmured, lips pursed in a frown. "Has she caused any trouble?"

"Not trouble, exactly," Svala hedged. "More of a…difference in personalities."

"I'm afraid there would be no one to replace her with," Proventus Avenicci said, his tone apologetic. 

"Damn," Svala murmured. Well, how much trouble could she get into left at home by herself?


	3. Bought a Horse

The horses in the Whiterun stables were magnificent. Svala had always wanted a horse, begged and pleaded with her parents until she grew old enough to realise that their poverty would ensure it was never a possibility for her. Now there they were, with their glossy noses and dark, intelligent eyes. Svala stroked at the snout of one, letting it nuzzle softly against her neck.

She had been doing much questing of late, had collected enough bounties to build up her coinage nicely. Svala had every intention of saving most of it, and 1000 gold was a lot of money. Still, the horses were beautiful and, being truly reasonable, Svala could convince herself that owning a horse would allow her to get through Skyrim much more quickly, and thus earn much more money.

It was, perhaps, an even better use of her money than Breezehome had been.

"I shall call you Hross," she told the tall, black beast happily. It was not original, she knew, but it had been her earliest childhood dream, and Svala was delighted to have finally fulfilled it. "We shall be great friends."

They did not get off to the best of starts. On her first attempt to swing herself into the saddle Svala fell straight back off the other side. The second had spooked Hross so badly that he had run halfway to the Western Watchtower before she could catch a hold of his reins. The third was, thankfully, much more satisfactory for both herself and Hross: while unsteady, Svala stayed seated, and even managed to coax him into a gentle trot across the soft grass. 

"See?" Svala said, sitting straight in the saddle. "That wasn't so difficult."

Hross snuffled softly. Svala reached into her pocket and took hold of a carrot. She had been saving it for the next cooking fire she came across, or for Lydia for her meal, but it would go rotten if she left it much longer. Instead she leant carefully over Hross' shoulder and, holding tightly for dear life, gently fed him the treat. 

He seemed content with that. 

Lydia was far less so.

"You can't keep him in the house," she told Svala severely. "There's no room."

"There's the spare room upstairs," Svala pointed out, stroking her hand down Hross' flank.

"That's my room."

"Oh. Yes, that could be a problem."

"They have the stables for a reason, my Thane," Lydia said. Her eyes were closed, and Svala suspected that behind those shut lids her housecarl was rolling them as far back as she could without giving herself a headache. 

"Fine," Svala said, pulling Hross out the door. "Let's go to the stables. Or on an adventure!"

She ignored the soft groan she heard as she left Breezehome. She overlooked the murmurings of the guards, and one of the Battle-Borns - she could never tell them apart - commenting on the rudeness of not picking up after her horse when he left the streets of Whiterun a small token of his esteem. 

"We need to go after that Hagraven," she mused, looking at the arrow she had marked on her map. "I did promise I would find Nettlebane, and it's only a small way from here. What do you think, Hross? Should we go after Nettlebane?"

Hross nickered. Svala took that as a yes and carefully raised herself into the horse's saddle. There was no falling this time, if she discounted the wobbling and accidental kicking of herself on the way up. When she tugged on the reins Hross trotted off placidly in the direction Svala indicated, with none of the complaining Lydia would have done on the way.

∞

Svala staggered back into her house, the last of her potions used and the remains of her clothing in a mess. Her face was filthy, and she suspected that there were tear tracks in the dirt. She rubbed at them furiously, tugging open the door with a furious grunt. 

Lydia was not in the kitchen, nor in her bedroom. Svala found her in her own bedroom, sitting in Svala's chair and contentedly nibbling on Svala's own sweetroll, the one she'd bought, paid real money for, and saved for when she came back to Whiterun victorious.

"My sweetroll!" She shrieked, childish in her outrage.

"What happened to you?" Lydia asked, licking her fingers carelessly and wiping the remains of the sugar off on the leather armor Svala had loaned her.

"The Hagraven killed Hross," she said, sinking down on to her bed and sighing.

"Your horse?" Lydia asked, cocking her head in confusion.

"No, my pet cow," Svala said, kicking at the mattress. "Yes, my horse. She killed him. I was in the middle of shooting her and she killed him!"

"I can't imagine why," Lydia pointed out. Svala tried to glare at her, but her face crumpled and a few more miserable tears escaped. Lydia hesitated, shifting back and forth on her feet. There was room, barely, on the bed for Lydia to squeeze in beside her, and when she did her touch was awkward, unfamiliar. "I apologize, my Thane. I have owned many a horse. This is often how it ends."

"No one told me that," Svala said, turning over and burying her face in the pillow.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, tapping at Svala's shoulder. From anyone else it would feel reassuring. From Lydia it was just hard, and felt more like she was being punished with a spanking than comforted. "Hross seemed like a very…admirable horse. We can go to the stables and purchase you another, if you like."

"I will never own another horse," Svala said mutinously. "Never."

* * *

Hross 2 was a dapple grey mare with the brightest eyes Svala had ever seen. She had fallen in love the moment she had gone to find Shadr and found her nibbling on a piece of lettuce she had filched from the delivery cart sitting outside the gate. 

"You will live much longer," she promised her, pulling herself onto Hross 2's back with greater grace than she had ever shown with Hross the First. The riding was rougher, less comfortable, but when pushed Hross 2's gallop was unmatched. 

At first she stuck to the plains, stopping every few hundred feet to ensure there were no wolves, bears or sabre cats waiting in the long grass to attack the unwary traveler. Slowly, in long days of exploring, adventuring and defeating unworthy enemies with Hross 2 safely hidden away, Svala lost her fear. She allowed Hross 2 to carry her into the snow, and the mountains.

Horses were particularly good for mountain travel, Svala found. Peaks that had been otherwise impassable were crossed with ease, and no quest was beyond her reach. Even the frost trolls, invisible against the white snow, were less of a challenge with Hross 2 at her side, rearing her hooves and charging the fearsome enemy. 

"You're a good girl," Svala told her, feeding her carrots and small handfuls of sugar as she found them. "You are such a good girl."

Hross 2 flourished under the attention, becoming strong and confident. Svala adored her with a passion that had, previously, been reserved for the newfound joy of having money and the small, cozy house she had purchased for herself.

"We're almost home," she told Hross, stroking her white mane and folding away her map. "We just need to climb down this mountain and travel that way for half a day and we shall be back in Whiterun. Won't that be nice, my love?"

Humming The Dragonborn Comes to herself, Svala pulled on the reins and turned Hross 2 on the most direct route back to Whiterun. Half way down the mountain she leant over to examine some snow and the world fell out from under her, Hross 2 neighing in outrage the rest of the way down. 

Svala pulled herself upright. Hross didn't.

∞

"It was your own fault," Lydia said. There was no sting in it, and the bottle of mead that she had placed into Svala's hand helped sooth the worst of the pain. "Horses are not meant for mountain travel."

"But they're so good at it," Svala protested blearily, tilting the bottle up and letting the last few drops fall into her mouth.

"They're wonderful for climbing up," Lydia said wryly, trading Svala's empty bottle for a full one. "They are less talented at getting down."

"I know that _now_ ," Svala sighed, looking longingly at the stairs, and imagining the softness of her bed. 

"Come, my Thane," Lydia said. Svala hadn't heard her sound so gentle; it was almost nice. "Let us get you to bed."

"I'm never buying another horse," she repeated, stumbling on the stairs and then falling to her knees beside her bed. "Not ever."

"Yes you will," Lydia said, hauling her on to the firm mattress and yanking the quilt out from under her. "You will just be more careful this time, and remember: we follow paths and leave our horses away from battle."

"Paths," Svala agreed, closing her eyes tightly and willing sleep to come. "No battle."

* * *

Temporary Transport was a blaze black and white, timid and quiet. Svala didn't grow fond him; she had learned that lesson well enough. She was kind to him, though and Temporary Transport seemed to love her for that. She fed him carrots, left him well enough away from combat and was always very careful around mountains.

In all this planning she had forgotten two things: she was the Dragonborn and dragons did not often give warning when they attacked. 

"Tempy, stay away," Svala called, her bow heavy in her hands. The dragon dived down overhead, spitting frost that was no chillier than a brisk winter bath in Dawnstar. When Svala looked around the find Temporary Transport she was sure that she would find a body, cold and heartbreaking: another failure.

She could hear the whinny, which was a good thing. The sight of her horse running as fast as he could in the furthest direction from home was not.

∞

"How did you lose this one?" Lydia sighed, seeing Svala's wet clothes and unhappy expression.

"I didn't lose him," Svala protested, tossing her useless mace on the ground in frustration. "He lost me! I fight one dragon, and by the time I'm done the damn thing has run off somewhere!"

"And you didn't look for him?"

"Of course I looked for him! I searched half of Skyrim! Why do you think it took me so long to get home?"

"With you, my Thane," Lydia said smugly. "I wouldn't dare guess."

"Oh be quiet," Svala said, clumping up to her room. On her bedside table was a note, crumpled and smudged. 

_Found: One Horse. I believe it is the one I sold you several months ago. Please collect. We are running out of space here._

_-Cedran._

"Lydia!" Svala yelped, balling the note up and throwing it at her housecarl's head when Lydia came to check on her.

"Oh, is that what that said?" Lydia mused innocently. "Well, I suppose you should go collect him then."

"One day I will drop your body in the Riften Canals," Svala told her severely. "And no one will blame me."

"Of course, my Thane. I live to serve you."

* * *

The battle was glorious. It had been a long trek through the cave, and longer still to fight off the last of the bandits. The leader had been a real challenge, draining Svala to the point of almost collapse before she could get enough distance between them to put an arrow through his chest and declare herself victorious.

The loot was nothing to be sniffed at, either. Over a hundred gold, a shield she could sell for good money and enough potions to ensure she could capture several more bounties before she would need to restock. It was a good day, and Svala stumbled home happily, vaguely aware of more time passing than she had expected, and too drowsy to care.

Lydia looked amused when Svala opened the front door, a note open in front of her.

"Forget something?" she asked Svala, waving the piece of paper in front of Svala's face.

_Found: One Horse. I believe it is the one I sold you several months ago. Please collect. We are running out of space here._

_-Cedran._

"Damn it!" Svala yelped. "Stupid horse! Why didn't he stay where I left him?"

"You didn't remember you had left him," Lydia said, and this time she didn't bother to smother her laugh. "I think it is a good thing he didn't."

"Ugh," Svala said, snatching an apple and storming towards the cart that would take her to Markarth.

* * *


	4. Visited the College of Winterhold

"Why is everyone so insistent I learn magic?" Svala asked Lydia as they trudged through the snow towards Winterhold. "I don't like magic. There's no need for it. I'm perfectly capable of shooting an arrow at anyone who attacks me, and for everything else there are potions."

"No good Nord needs magic," Lydia said darkly. "It's unnatural."

"I agree with you," Svala said, pushing her hair out of her eyes. 

The path was long, and colder than even Svala was accustomed to. She had wanted to take the cart, travel in relative comfort to the outskirts of Winterhold. Lydia had protested, had complained of giving the College of Mages advance warning the the Dragonborn was coming. 

"You never know what they might do, my Thane," she had said, foot tapping impatiently against the kitchen floor. "Especially if they know someone as important as you is coming."

Svala hadn't quite considered herself important, but in the interests of avoiding another difference of opinions, she had given in to her housecarl's request to take a long and winding path to Winterhold. It would be an adventure, she had told herself. She might find gold along the way, too, which had been an argument more convincing than any other. 

She should send some of the gold she was finding back to her mother. Perhaps after she had purchased the house the Jarl of Riften had offered her. 

"I do not like this stupid snow," she said unhappily, the bite of the wind flowing through her thick armor and chilling her skin so badly Svala was surprised it had not turned black with frostbite. "I want to hit it with my bow."

"That would be arrow, my Thane," Lydia said. There was exhaustion in her voice, a tiredness that was more frightening than the ice wraith that had pounced on them three hours back. Wraiths in general were irritatingly immune to weapons of any kind; magic would be more helpful, should Svala be convinced that she could wield it more accurately than any of the swords she had tested under Lydia's guidance. 

"It's poetry, Lydia," Svala said, moaning in delight at the beautiful sight of Winterhold coming into view in front of them. "Art."

"I hate art," Lydia snarled. Svala slipped her arm around Lydia's waist and, using the same technique the housecarl had used on their first adventure together, hauled her up the path towards the city. 

"I think that we should stay at the inn tonight," Svala said hesitantly. Lydia had expressed a loud and vigorous determination to stay in Winterhold as little time as possible, but Svala was worried about the woman's pallor, and weakness. "It would be best to be rested before we confront the mages."

"As my Thane wishes," Lydia sighed. Svala took that as hearty consent and paid Dagur 20 gold for the honour of staying at The Frozen Hearth for the remaining night hours.

* * *

"No one told me there would be a test," Svala said. Faralda ignored her, haughty even though speechless. Svala fingered her bow, twisted an arrow between her fingers and wondered whether killing the gatekeeper would be an acceptable solution to the trial. Lydia shook her head, a movement Svala caught out of the corner of her eye, and she sighed.

"Summon Flame Astronach," Faralda repeated after a long pause, as though Svala was a child and had an attention span short enough to have forgotten the instruction so quickly. It was true, but pointing it out in public was rude, and Svala rankled with the memory of a thousand speeches from her father to be more responsible, to pay attention to her elders, and for goodness sake, stop complaining about not having a pony. 

"Just cast a spell," Lydia hissed into her ear.

"I don't know any!" Svala whispered back, a fact Lydia well knew.

She eyed Faralda intently, studying her movement, her possible weaknesses. She looked at the gate behind her, too, and could see no obvious latches or cheats to get through without passing the quiz that had been so unpleasantly set for her.

"I'm the Dragonborn," she said, a bluff wrapped in truth. Faralda looked surprised, and not unimpressed. 

"I would like to see a demonstration of your shout," she said. Lydia buried her head in her hands and looked away as Svala opened her mouth, puffed out her chest and yelled _Fus Ro_ , hoping that two-thirds of a shout was better than nothing. Faralda stumbled, falling backwards, scarcely catching herself on the railing of the grey stone bridge. Svala smiled serenely, the tingling that always came with a successful shout sparking energy through her fingertips and shocking Lydia when Svala thumped her housecarl happily on the back.

They were led into the college, and to Mirabelle Ervine, a Master Wizard who bothered Svala in an entirely irrational way.

"Another set of robes," Svala muttered unenthusiastically, tucking them away in her inventory. Lydia snorted softly and hushed her, which Svala didn't much see the point of. Mirabelle hadn't heard them, and if she had Svala would have had the excuse she wanted to run away from the college and never return. "Also, this is the most boring tour. This is a door. Look! Another door."

"My Thane," Lydia said, swatting at Svala's hair. "Hush. The quicker we listen to this trash the sooner you can learn whatever it is you need to here and we can return home. What is it you need to learn here?"

"I haven't a clue," Svala said, chewing on her lower lip. "But everyone keeps saying I should learn magic, and if I learn it, perhaps they'll stop?"

Lydia stared at her blankly for so long that Svala was concerned she had been enchanted. The spell, and Svala couldn't help but giggle at her silent mental pun, was broken with a slap of Lydia's palm to her forehead, which looked both painful and pointless.

"You have had some terrible excuses for your actions, my Thane," Lydia told her tiredly. "But this is the worst."

"Is that a challenge?" Svala asked, vaguely aware that they'd lost Mirabelle somewhere in the conversation.

"Absolutely not," Lydia said immediately. 

"Damn," Svala sighed, looking at the door the rest of the tour group had disappeared into. "Let's finish this, shall we? I'm sure they'll find out my lack of skill soon enough; may as well loot as much as I can while I'm here."

" _Loot_?" Lydia demanded, her voice rising dangerously.

"Learn," Svala corrected. "Learn as much as I can."

"Talos help me," Lydia sighed, opening the door and waving Svala through.

* * *

"It seems to me," Svala told her housecarl sternly. "That bringing strange magical artefacts into magic colleges is a very bad idea. If they had asked me ahead of time I would have been more than happy to point that out to someone."

"That is what you're concerned about?" Lydia asked her, astonishment painted all over her stern features.

"It seems the most relevant problem at this point," Svala said, running her hands over the fine furnishings of her new quarters. There sheer number of chests and safes and beautifully rendered silver made her giddy. She inventoried it all over again in her mind, not sure which pieces to sell, which to keep and which she was going to throw gleefully at whichever of the mages annoyed her in some way.

"You can't think of anything slightly more important?" Lydia said, confiscating a bowl of fire salts from Svala's curious hands. "Like, perhaps, being made Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold?"

"I fail to see how that's a problem," Svala said, wandering over to the garden situated directly in the middle of her quarters. She wasn't sure what she needed a garden for, but some of the herbs could be useful if she decided to learn alchemy. There was an alchemy station right here in her quarters; if she could save money by making her own potions, she would have more money to buy other things.

Or just more potions. She didn't pay for many of them of late. 

"You barely know any magic!" Lydia snapped. Her grip on the fire salts tightened and they tilted, spilling over the floor. All around Lydia small licks of fire burned, and Svala sprinted across the room, yanking her out its path.

"I could pretend?" Svala suggested, eying the fire salts with something akin to inspiration. "If I used tricks like that…"

"I'm leaving," Lydia said, her teeth clenched. "You are coming with me, before you get into more trouble."

"I'm the one in charge here," Svala reminded her. Lydia grabbed her arm and, respecting her housecarl's painful grip, Svala followed along meekly.

"You should not be allowed to be in charge of a rock," Lydia informed her, opening the door to the Arch-Mage's quarters with a loud creak. "No. Not even a piece of wood, my Thane, you are a menace to Skyrim."

They were stopped half way through the college by a small group of students Svala didn't recognize. They all appeared some form of awed, eager or outright murderous. Lydia shrank a bit beside her, angling her body to protect Svala's should one of the angry ones pull a weapon or, Talos forbid, cast one of the spells Svala never bothered to learn.

"Arch-Mage," the oldest one said respectfully, bowing before her. "We come seeking some of your knowledge and wisdom."

Svala winced, and thoughtfully disregarded the smugly superior look Lydia flashed her before surging forward and trying to push her way through the growing crowd. The more she moved forward the more the students responded, circling Svala like a hunter stalked a deer, determined and intent. 

"This isn't the best time," Svala said regally, counting how many steps it would take to sprint her way back to The Frozen Hearth. "I have many important, Mage-like things to do. Perhaps we could arrange a time later…"

"It will take only a minute," the student said, thoughtlessly tossing aside all of Svala's plans to leave the College of Winterhold and never return. "We each have but one question, one piece of knowledge or morality we are conflicted on."

"Ah," Svala said, counting the number of exits, and the ways each of these were blocked to her. She didn't look at Lydia, stepped back as far as she could to be away from her housecarl's surprisingly long reach, and smiled. "Well, if that's the case…perhaps I could spare a few moments."

* * *

"I hope you've learned your lesson," Lydia told her after the fire had burned out, and the students hurried back to their quarters.

"I have," Svala said gravely, wiping the remainder of the soot from her favourite set of armour. "You were correct, of course. It is always inappropriate to pretend you know magic when you don't."

Lydia nodded at her, satisfied. When she wasn't looking Svala made a rude sign with her fingers and reminded herself to trade her housecarl in for a nice diamond or necklace when she was given the opportunity. 

"Where to now, my Thane?" Lydia asked when she was sure they were both cleaned.

"Back to Riften," Svala said distractedly, attempting to calculate the approximate value of a human in cash and jewels.

"Back to Riften?" Lydia questioned. "You've been to Riften? Why have you been to Riften? It's the worst place in Skyrim!"

"I wanted to join the Thieves' Guild?" Svala said sheepishly.

"You're not even attempting to hide it anymore, are you?" Lydia growled at her. Svala tilted her head in thought.

"No," she decided happily. "Plus there's a house I can buy there. I wonder if it comes with a new housecarl?"

"I sincerely hope so," Lydia said, helping Svala reposition her bow with more force than Svala thought was strictly necessary.

* * *


	5. Started a Family

"Where are you going looking so pretty?" Lydia said, brushing a stray piece of dust off Svala's shoulder. Svala twirled to display the fine clothes Taarie had given her to show off to the Jarl of Solitude, the stolen circlet, necklace and ring and the fine boots she had acquired from Ulfric Stormcloak as compensation for the Helgen debacle. 

"To celebrate," Svala said, smoothing down her skirts. It felt strange, being out of armour and leaving so much of her inventory at home. She had her bow and arrows, of course, and most of her gold. The rest she had stored in a chest upstairs, hopefully away from Lydia's prying eyes. She had an unnatural talent for telling which of Svala's possessions were obtained legally, and which were…well, not.

"Celebrate what?" Lydia prodded, the distrust and suspicion that were her trademarks when talking to Svala appearing slowly over her face.

"Joining the Thieves' Guild," Svala stated flatly. 

"Is there any point arguing wi-" Lydia started.

"No."

"Fine," she sighed, picking up a broom and pretending to sweep. "If you end up in jail, I won't be bailing you out."

"Oh, I've been practicing my lockpicking," Svala said, kicking herself for forgetting her lockpicks. She darted up the stairs and stuck a handful of them in the surprisingly voluminous pocket of her dress, and hopped, on alternate feet, back down. "Vex has been teaching me."

"Then Vex should start looking after you," Lydia said, almost like she was sulking.

"Vex has better things to do," Svala said, just to see Lydia go red and barely restrain herself from braining Svala with the broom. "I'll likely be a few days. I thought I wold go see my parents in Dawnstar and give them some of the money I've earned. Perhaps I'll have a drink at the Windpeak Inn. Brynjolf told me he'd meet me there."

She gave Lydia a small smile, inviting her to join in the fun. Lydia stayed silent, and Svala shook her head in disappointment.

"It's a shame. You'd like him," Svala told her.

"I could never like a thief," Lydia scoffed.

"He has a pretty accent," Svala tempted, a small smugness in her smile. Lydia was enchanted by new and strange accents.

"It wouldn't matter," she said, but she paused before saying it. Svala decided that meant she'd won, and wound her way towards the door.

"You know where I am if you'd like to come," Svala offered, her hand clutched around the gold in her pocket. She really should give some of it to her parents, she'd certainly decided to. Yet now that it was in her purse, and so close to being away from her, Svala missed it, missed all the things she could have done with it if needed. "Although I don't imagine much will happen while I'm gone."

"My Thane, much always happens while you're gone," Lydia said, pulling an amulet of Talos out of her pocket. "While is why I bought this for just such occasions. I would say that I will pray for you, but in all honesty it's I who will need the prayers."

"Yes, that's likely," Svala admitted. "Would you like me to go stay in Riften afterwards, and let Iona deal with my schemes?"

"Iona couldn't keep up with you if I gave her lessons," Lydia sniffed. Svala smiled brightly; for Lydia that was quite nearly a declaration of everlasting devotion. "But by all means, make her suffer needlessly."

"I'll be back in a few days," Svala promised. "I will even refrain from thievery if you promise not to pick fights at The Bannered Mare."

"But-"

"Not even if they start it," Svala said, because she was tired of Lydia coming home with bruises that she shouldn't, and knowing that, come morning, Svala would again need to pay the bounty her housecarl had racked up while Svala was peacefully sleeping.

"Fine," Lydia said. "Now go, or I will have to come with you just to distract myself."

Svala went.

* * *

It was only after Svala had been to Dawnstar that she recalled exactly why she had left Dawnstar in the first place. The Windpeak Inn was inviting, as always, and Thoring had been so pleased to see her back, and alive, that he had happily provided Svala and Brynjolf with so much free ale that Svala was currently having a very difficult time grasping the concept of her feet.

They went on the ground, that much she understood. When trying to ensure that happened the rest of her tended to follow, which caused difficulties whenever she tried to walk. Eventually she turned on her back and tilted her head up to the stars, tracing the shapes of the familiar constellations. 

Thank Talos her parents had gone to bed soon after she had showered them with her ill-gotten riches. They had such plans for it, so many improvements they would make to the house that Svala had always hated. She was glad for them, for their rise from poverty, and gladder still to be the cause of it. If only she could have convinced them that she would not be staying there; they would not find a grateful daughter rising for breakfast come morning.

"You'll get frostbite if you stay down there, lass," Brynjolf said, leaning over her. Svala got the vague idea that she was meant to be waiting for him somewhere else, and that they had plans that she couldn't remember. "Did you get the coin purse?"

"Coin purse?" Svala said drowsily. "Wha-. Oh! This one?"

She held the purse she found in her pocket up for Brynjolf to see. He shook his head with a laugh and held his hand out, wrapping it tightly around her own. With one great tug she was upright again, and with his help she was able to remember the basics of putting one foot in front of the other until she was in a completely different place than she had been before.

"No, lass, that's your own," he smirked. Svala reached into her other pocket and pulled out something that resembled what Brynjolf had handed back to her. "Yes, that's the one. How much is in there."

"One…" Svala counted carefully, tapping her finger to each coin. "Two…uh…one…"

"Thirty-three," Brynjolf announced, lifting her hand up and flattening her fingers. "Here you are. I'll give you the extra, as you did most of the work."

"Oh, good," Svala said, only dropping a coin or two before she could shove it all messily back into her dress. "Now what was I going to do?"

"I don't know about you, but I have a job up in Markarth that I thought I'd get out of the way."

Svala wrinkled her nose at the thought of Markarth, her least favourite place in Skyrim. She could go with him, as the part of her brain that had some kind of logic left in it insisted. The rest stared at the path away from Dawnstar, the one she had taken the night she had left her family, and longed for a repeat of that adventure.

"I shall go home," she decided quietly, her heart warm. Not to her newest house, or to the one she could create at the College if she decided. To Whiterun, and to the first place she had thought of in that way. To Lydia, who would take care of her, and make this better.

There was a boy there, on the path. A boy who had the same sadness in his eyes that she had as a child, and tale sadder than her own. She could barely speak, lost as she was in the mead and the memories, but one idea managed to come to her and as it did she knew it was the best one that she had had yet.

"I know how to fix this," she announced to the boy.

* * *

Svala awoke in her own bed, covered in her own blanket, and with the smell of her own food cooking in the air. She snuggled under the covers until she was sure she would be sick, and then grabbed for the bucket that she knew Lydia would kindly have left on the bedside table.

There was no bucket. There was nothing but her own dress to be sick on, and Svala didn't want to ruin the nicest clothes she owned without good reason. Swallowing back the bile was difficult, but she managed it with a few gulps of water from the glass she always kept in her room for the rare situation like this.

She yawned as she walked downstairs, stretching her arms in contentment. She had not had a hangover this terrible in many years, but she was home and, when she had checked, she had ended up with more gold than she had started with so the night couldn't have been all that awful. She was missing the silver ring she had been wearing, but there were eight more like it in her safe at Solitude; she would just have to travel there to retrieve another one.

Lydia was quiet when Svala made it to the table, her glare fierce.

"What is this?" She asked, pointing towards a small child that was inexplicable sitting at her kitchen table.

"A small child?" Svala asked cautiously.

"Good morning, Mama," the child said politely. Svala froze. She didn't have a child, did she? She was fairly sure she would remember having a child. In between being pregnant and giving birth there was approximately ten months' worth of awkward and painful moments to consider, and all of that would surely add together to form some kind of memory of the event.

"He came in last night," Lydia said, voice filled with barely restrained anger. "And told me that you had adopted him, and that he was to meet you here."

"I think I remember something about that," Svala recalled, Brynjolf, stars, and Dawnstar all mixing together in her mind. "You were…you were in Dawnstar. Your name was…oh, I remember this, I know I do."

"Alesan," the boy supplied. That was nothing like what Svala recalled, but she nodded her head and smiled along anyway.

"That's right. Alesan. And I adopted you," she said. The child couldn't be more than eight years old. Eight year olds weren't known for lying were they? She doubted that a child walked up to her house, decided it was a nice place to live and that he would just claim it for his own. Having ruled that out, the child's story made a great deal of sense.

"May I speak with you, my Thane," Lydia said, in the tone of voice that meant that Svala was about to be in a very large amount of pain.

"I haven't had my breakfast yet," Svala protested.

" _Now_ , my Thane," Lydia insisted. Svala followed her silently, out the door of Breezehome and up towards Jorrvaskr. "What in Skyrim's name were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," Svala said unhappily, sinking down on to a bench next to a small girl. "I had much to drink, and from little I remember, the child was greatly unhappy. It seemed like a kindness."

"It's a responsibility," Lydia harangued her. "One that you are clearly unequipped for. And who will be looking after this child? Me. I was sworn to serve you, my Thane, but Talos help me, no one warned me about what I was getting into."

"I'm not saying sorry," Svala sulked. "He needed a home."

"Many children need homes," Lydia softened as she sat next to Svala. "We don't have room for all of them. War creates many orphans, that is part of the sadness of it."

"I wish I could be adopted," the girl next to them muttered to herself. "I'm so hungry."

Svala looked at Lydia with wide eyes. Lydia hunched her shoulders and counted audibly, to ten and then past it, reaching thirty before she was willing to meet Svala's gaze again. 

"You will help me look after them," she said, staring at the girl intently before she gave in. "I will not be cleaning up all of your disasters for you. You will help me, and I will expect a raise for it."

Svala nodded happily, pulling one of her coin bags out of her pocket and handing it to Lydia. Lydia rolled her eyes, but she took it and her hand, when she reached out for the young girl's, was gentle and reassuring. 

"You will go talk to Proventus Avenicci and have one of the rooms turned into a children's room," Lydia ordered.

"I can do that?" Svala asked, mystified.

"Where did you think they were going to sleep?"

"Your room?"

"Go. Now," Lydia demanded, directing the girl towards Breezehome. Towards sanctuary. 

"Are you two married?" The girl asked innocently. "You fight like you're married."

"That sounds like a good idea," Svala called mischievously after them.

"Not if you were the last living creature in Skyrim," Lydia yelled back. "I would take an Imperial above you."

* * *


	6. Epilogue

"It's beginning to occur to me," Svala said thoughtfully, finding a handy glass bow and several nice arrows on the body of one of the mercenaries. She fingered it with grateful hands and slipped an arrow in, aiming it at the most distant mercenary, drawing the string and letting it fly. "That most of my problems began around the time I met you."

"I've often thought much the same thing," Lydia said, dispatching one of the two she had lured away from Svala early in the fight. 

"I admit that I may not have been the easiest Thane to work for," Svala acknowledged graciously, her arrow flying over the head of the last mercenary and distracting him enough that Lydia was able to run him through before he could recover his senses. Lydia snorted at her, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I'm stunned that you would admit to that, my Thane," she laughed, tossing her hair back and wiping a trace of blood off her face. "Your generosity overwhelms me."

"I could see why that would be true," Svala grinned, picking a stray leaf out of her housecarl's hair. "Wait. Do you know where the kids are?"

"Oh, damn," Lydia said, swinging around wildly. "We brought them, didn't we?"

"I'm fairly sure," Svala said, a new fear piercing her chest and turning her concern into terror. "They weren't with us when we went into the Barrow…they were…"

"In the Inn!" Svala and Lydia said in unison, exchanging relieved glances. The inn was several kilometres walk, and Svala hadn't thought it prudent to bring the horse; as sturdy as Tempy was, he wasn't very good with children, and was even less impressed with the idea of carrying several humans on his back at once. 

"We could walk," Lydia said, her weapon swinging loosely by her side.

"I'm tired," Svala whined softly.

"I'm not carrying you," Lydia said. Svala hadn't suggested it, but she wouldn't deny that the idea had crossed her mind. Lydia gave wonderful piggy backs, especially when Svala was conscious enough to remember it. 

Dragging her feet along the dusty ground Svala set course from Bleak Falls Barrow towards Riverwood, the first city she had encountered on her journey. She really should stop by and visit Delphine while she was there, and catch up on what little the Blades had left to do. If nothing else she could delight Alesan and Lucia with the secret room hidden underneath the inn.

If the mischievous creatures hadn't already discovered it for themselves.

"Do you think it was cruel?" Svala asked, watching Lydia trudge along out of the corner of her eye. "Leaving them with Delphine and Orgnar?"

"Yes," Lydia said, swatting irritably at a tree branch that had the audacity to snap back into her face. "Better them than me."

"We should bring them something," Svala mused, looking around the landscape for a likely flower, rock or lost trinket that would entertain two ten year olds. "Do you know how to whittle?"

"Why would I wish to gift Delphine anything?" Lydia grumbled, clearly still remembering her own close call with the Blades.

"I meant the children," Svala laughed, leaning down and picking a blue mountain flower as she passed by. "To Shor with Delphine."

Lydia shook her head, smiling. She snagged a flower of her own when she overtook Svala, breaking into a slow jog. Svala contemplated running after her, turning it into another race or competition, but she was tired, the sun was warm in the sky and she was heading towards home. There seemed no need to rush towards anything.

"Slow!" Lydia shouted.

"Not racing," Svala said, twirling in a circle as a hawk flew low over her head. 

Lydia fell back until Svala caught up, and squeezed herself onto the same small path Svala was occupying. Svala dropped her head to Lydia's shoulder for a moment, and Lydia sniffed, poking her in the back.

"We will take forever if you keep on like this," she told Svala.

"If you'd let me steal that horse," Svala pointed out. "We could have been there and back again already."

"How many times," Lydia huffed. "Do I have to tell you not to steal in front of our children?"

"They're our children now?" Svala queried. "I thought you didn't want the responsibility."

"After taking care of you," Lydia said, congenial in her suffering. "Two kids are easy."

"I'll remind you of that next time Braith is yelling about Alesan pulling her pigtails," Svala decided.

"I wish that girl would remember her own crush on Lars Battle-Born," Lydia shook her head. "You'd think he was stabbing her with all the noise she makes."

"Mama!" Lucia called. Svala hadn't realised how close they had come to Riverwood, nor that both Alesan and Lucia would be waiting for them when they did. "I got you something. I hope you like it."

Svala dropped to her knees and held out her arms. Lucia jumped into them while Alesan clambered onto Lydia's back for a ride. Lydia's knees buckled; when Svala tried to catch her they all tumbled to the ground in a heap.

"I hope it's a horse," Svala groaned, pushing the heavy weight off her. "So that we will not need to ride the cart home. We still haven't been forgiven for our last ride."

"It was Lucia," Alesan said immediately.

"It _was not_ ," Lucia yelled. "You did it!"

"Actually," Lydia said, shaking her head at Svala. "I believe your mother was responsible."

Svala looked to the clear sky, cloudless in every direction and warm with all the promise of a Skyrim spring day. She looked at the town, at the path to Helgen and at her bow and arrow, hanging uselessly at her side.

"Oh, is that a dragon?" She asked, backing away from Lydia's glare and the children's laughter. 

"No it isn't," Lydia barked. 

"Yes it is," Svala said, ducking behind a lavender plant. "I'd better go kill it."

"There is no dragon."

"There is. I can tell these things," Svala said, her best smile on her face. "I am the Dragonborn. It's in my blood."

She ran before Lydia could stop her, weaving between buildings and farms, hiding whenever she heard noises behind her. She stole some potatoes out of a barrel as she went. She didn't particularly like potatoes, but she was sure she could trade them for something, and if not…well, there was always someone to throw them at, wasn't there?

* * *


End file.
